


learning to drift

by EKmisao



Series: light and dark [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-21 09:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 18,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4823081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EKmisao/pseuds/EKmisao
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A most unlikely young man has been accepted into the resistance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keio/gifts).



> Um, so. Two tumblr posts got posted, and are already getting buried by all my squealing for Heneral Luna. Also, in general these are efforts to keep major panic at bay. Also, K has been asking this for a while now. Also, Les Mis as musical is coming to my country, next year, so awesome. Here's to hoping it gets updates at a reasonable length of time. 
> 
> This is intended to be a prequel to the earlier stories under the "light and dark" series. Hope you like.

Enjolras stared at the specimen before him: a well-built young man of roughly his same age, with tousled dark hair. Said specimen was covered in scrapes and bruises. Said tousled hair was covered in dust and grit. Said young man was seated, leaned forward, his hands around a beer can. The hands were sore at the knuckles, streaked with dried blood. 

Enjolras raised an eyebrow as he turned to Combeferre. “Who is this?” 

“He was really good!” It was Courfeyrac who answered instead. “Took down some thugs who were bothering us. Did it single-handedly! Like one-two-three…” 

The young man lifted his eyes, looking up at Enjolras, with an uncertain grin. 

“Can he join us? Can he? Can he?” Courfeyrac asked, yanking at a sleeve. 

“You TOLD this stranger about the resistance?” Enjolras scowled. “You do know how dangerous our work is…now that the world government…” 

“We didn’t tell him, he asked!” the coordinator said. “Please? Please?” 

Enjolras folded his arms. “What if he’s a spy for the military?” 

The young man did not lift his head, but shook it as he kept his gaze at the leader of Paris/Cannes arm of the worldwide anti-kaiju resistance. 

Combeferre, their strategist, finally spoke. “His records have already been checked and hacked. He’s clean.” 

“Who is his contact?” Enjolras asked. 

“None of us,” Combeferre answered, “but he is acquainted with Bossuet and Feuilly.” 

Enjolras scowled. Unlike Combeferre the center and Courfeyrac the coordinator whom he had known for years, the young man before him came from nowhere without connections. It was a dangerous gamble, to take the young man at face value and accept him as member of the resistance. 

Enjolras stepped forward, nearer to the young man on trial. 

“Your name?” 

The young man finally raised his head. He looked at Enjolras, gazed thoroughly at his face, taking all of him in. He smirked. “Grantaire, may it please the light of the Paris resistance.” 

Enjolras pulled back. “You know me?” 

Grantaire lowered his head again. 

“Why should I let you join us?” Enjolras asked. 

Grantaire shrugged. “It’s alright, either way.” But his eyes looked up and gazed at him again, pleading. 

Enjolras tossed his head, taking his eyes away from the kitten-like pleading eyes. “Whatever. He can stay,” he told Combeferre. “No access to central command and core files, until we are assured of his loyalty.” 

Before he turned away, he saw the small but honest smile, partly hidden by the dusty, tousled hair. 

.........................

Becoming a member of the resistance was a major decision, they reminded Grantaire. One needed to pack up important belongings, and uproot oneself to life in a defence base. This was for safety reasons. They needed consistent access to their technology and equipment, whatever remained to them from military arsenal and their own many additions. They also needed to stay far away from collateral damage to humans and property. 

Grantaire nodded that he understood. 

Within the base, they found him a small spare room with a bunk bed and a small desk. It was enough for him. He had brought a small luggage bag containing clothes for several days, with not much else. 

…………………………………….

Everyone in the base went to the mess hall for breakfast, forming two cheerful lines for food, then sitting in several rows of tables. 

“Has anyone seen the newcomer, though?” Combeferre asked. 

Enjolras, beside him, grew alert. 

Courfeyrac took out a tablet and pressed several screen buttons. “All control room doors remain locked. There are no people at the hallways.” 

“What about the quarters?” 

The coordinator pressed several more tabs. “All empty.” 

Enjolras folded his arms and frowned. Just a day in, and already the newcomer was being suspicious. 

“What do you mean, there’s no beer?” An angry shout came from behind the serving area. 

The light, center, and coordinator turned and watched the conversation.  
The assistant cook scratched his head at the head cook. “They’re all gone. Somebody drank them all, and now we’re out of stock.” 

Combeferre stood and patted Enjolras on the shoulder. “I’ve heard a few things. I’ll confirm this one.” He left the long table and headed to the kitchen counter. 

Enjolras raised an eyebrow as Combeferre followed the cooks to the pantry. He frowned again as he stood up and followed after them. 

He almost collided with Combeferre at the pantry door. 

“I’ve found the newbie,” Combeferre said immediately. 

He was led past several shelves toward a corner where bags of flour and oatmeal were stored. 

There the newcomer lay on the floor, his head and back leaned on the bags of flour. He snored softly but deeply, surrounded by many beer cans. 

Enjolras glared at Combeferre. “We took in a drunk.” 

“It’s just his first day, old friend…” 

“We took in a drunk!” 

“Give him a chance to prove himself…”

Enjolras raised himself to his full height, and glared up at the center. “Are you telling me to take our chances with an alcoholic?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, you will, but I won’t!” he declared, marching out of the kitchen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last two tumblr posts, still rather fuelled by post-Heneral Luna feels. (It's a historical biopic, but an incredible one in its bravery, humor, and insight, while having high production values. Hopefully more of you will hear of it from the Oscars. Hopefully.) The posts are also getting buried quickly, so they are given here for posterity.

Enjolras scowled at his right-hand and left-hand men. They were in a small huddle in the control room, with Enjolras rolling his eyes at their new recruit, slumbering in the small bunk room they had assigned. 

“You said we needed people willing and able to pilot a jaeger,” Combeferre reminded him. “We found one. So why are you complaining?” 

“You weren’t there when it happened!” Courfeyrac added. “He came out of somewhere, stood in front of us, said he was called Grantaire. Then his fists and knees were spinning all over the place. And before we knew it, the thugs were down!” 

Enjolras folded his arms before his chest. He sighed. Despite the wide difference in personalities, the two C’s were the most drift-compatible twosome that could not pilot a jaeger he had ever seen. Their minds complemented each other in major decisions, and filled out the weaknesses of the other. When they agreed on something, it was nearly impossible to get them to see another opinion. 

His eyes wandered again to the figure on one monitor, snoring, drooling onto the bedsheets, a leg slung past the bed. He could not see what they saw. An unreliable man, moreso an unreliable jaeger pilot, was the last thing they needed. 

Kaiju appeared with more regularity in the last few months. Gone were the times when all they did for weeks were drills, scouting missions, and upgrades. Actual fights filled their days, and the loss of general support ate into their reserves. They needed every good man. But the C’s were showing him an unreliable one.

Enjolras had a good amount of military training in him, sufficient to pilot a jaeger. But no drift-compatible pilot could be found for him, even if a jaeger was available. He had no choice at the moment but remain their tactician, the one who planned their battle movements, which stuck in the control room. 

“I’m testing him tomorrow,” he told the center and the coordinator. “Warn him that I will not go easy. If he is not at least able to fight with us, out he goes.” 

“But…Enjolras…”

“We don’t need stragglers and wanderers in the resistance. We need fighters,” he told them. “If he’s not a fighter, he has no place here.” 

.................................

Grantaire sat at a far corner table for breakfast the next day. He was joined there by his previous acquaintances. With them, Enjolras observed, the newcomer smiled and laughed, with brightness of sunshine. As if all the gloomy dusk he saw, the first time he met the young man, did not exist. 

“Are you going to eat that or not?” Courfeyrac asked Enjolras, regarding a forkful of pancake held some inches from his mouth, as Enjolras kept watching the newcomer. 

“Oh.” Enjolras swallowed the pancake bite. “Has he been informed? Of the test.” 

Courfeyrac startled. “Oh, no!” 

The coordinator stood up and walked to the far corner table where Feuilly and Grantaire were. Enjolras watched as Feuilly oohed and Grantaire quietly nodded as he listened. The newcomer kept glancing toward Enjolras. Enjolras kept looking away. 

Combeferre, who remained beside Enjolras, nudged him. “You are interested.” 

Enjolras glared and speared at his pancake. “I find him contrary.” 

“You mean, a study in contrasts,” Combeferre replied, with a grin. 

“Neither of us know enough to say that,” Enjolras growled. 

Courfeyrac returned, as Grantaire and his small circle of new friends stood with their breakfast trays. “R’s asking if after two hours is okay with you, so you have time to rest after breakfast and time to prepare.” 

Enjolras’s eyes followed the newcomer as he disappeared from the mess hall. The nerve of the newcomer to state the terms of the battle did reach him, but not as much as the contour of the newcomer’s back. “R?” 

“A nickname he gets often,” Courfeyrac explained. “So, is 10 o’clock okay?” 

“I….um…fine,” he grumbled, spearing at his pancake again. 

The nerve of the newcomer to get on his nerves.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is around 3 weeks interval between the two tumblr posts comprising this chapter. Not so much because of Heneral Luna fandom (though that was part of the reason), but more because of all the jitters around my major exam. The jitters are still there, and probably worse. Thanks for reading.

He armed for war. He suited into a tank top that pressed onto his chest and abdomen. He slid into leggings that wrapped around his thighs. Despite the tightness of the outfit, Enjolras preferred them, as they moved like a second skin. His feet remained bare, as he slid them onto a pair of mat slippers. 

He found his opponent already there. He felt a lump in his throat. 

Grantaire wore boxing shorts that fell to mid-thigh, revealing the calves of the legs and the sinew of the quadriceps. The dry-fit shirt, while loose, still revealed the well-tuned physique and the tight abdomen. His hands were covered in boxing hand wrap. His back was turned to Enjolras as he did his stretches. 

The sports attire was not the most well-known nor the most high-quality. Such would have actually made Enjolras more suspicious of his skills, for expensive sports gear often showed that the user was a novice. This fighter knew what equipment worked best for him, and stuck with them, signs of the experienced. 

Enjolras found himself staring again, forgetting the reason for such thoughts, such gazes at a fine body. 

Grantaire turned to face him. He placed a fist inside a palm, and bowed to his opponent. Enjolras kept his hands by his sides, as he bowed in return. 

Combeferre stood at the margin of the mat, his arms folded over his chest. Courfeyrac sat cross-legged beyond the mat, his back leaned on the wall, as he stared at a large tablet before him. 

Grantaire silently stood before him in the neutral stance, neither defending nor attacking. His hands, covered in boxing wrap, were positioned in front of him, ready to either strike or defend the chest and face. He smiled. 

Enjolras raised an eyebrow again as he assumed attack position: a right hand and arm ready to punch, a left leg and foot ready to kick. 

Combeferre raised a hand over his head. “Ready.” 

Both fighters nodded. 

Combeferre brought down the hand with a chop. “Start.” 

Enjolras did not waste time. 

He charged with a straight punch and a swinging right kick. But his opponent immediately swerved away from both strikes, flowing like water. He pulled back the leg and swung backward, but the second movement was also avoided with a smooth glide. 

He tried hitting with a left hook, but it was clearly his weaker attack and Grantaire quickly twisted and glided away. 

A rapid hit-block-hit-block sequence between hands and feet and arms and knees, as Enjolras hit and Grantaire parried with equal speed and timing, as Enjolras attacked and Grantaire defended. 

His technique was part usual boxing, part muay thai, mixed with a whole lot of military self-defense training. Grantaire’s was half street-smart, half-formal training of several martial arts he could no longer place, the force of the Japanese forms, the grace of the Chinese ones, the ferocity of the Thai styles. But Grantaire all the prowess of the mixed Asian style merely in defense. 

Grantaire anticipated the straight jab and moved his head away. He saw an uppercut coming and placed a heavy hand over the fist. He expected a low kick and blocked the foot with his hands. He swerved away from the high kick and dislodged Enjolras’s balance in twisting after him. 

“Attack, damn you!” Enjolras scowled. 

Grantaire ducked away as he swiped at Enjolras’s feet, tripping him onto the mat. “I only need to pass the audition, right?” Grantaire said. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t need to.” 

Enjolras growled as he regained his feet. “How are you going to pass this if you’re not going to fight me?” 

Grantaire placed a foot of distance between them. “Technically speaking, all you need to see is if I can fight well enough to stay. I don’t need to hurt you to do that.” 

Enjolras groaned as he charged again. 

He drove both fists in a rapid flurry of movement that Grantaire all countered with efficient swipes and blocks. He tried attacking with his knees and feet, but even there Grantaire flowed around him and away from him, rendering all the moves useless. He attempted to reach the torso and abdomen, but even there the protection was full and capable, with rapid blocks and slides. And yet there were no attacks, merely a lot of coordinated defending. 

It was like he was leading a furious, fiery dance, and Grantaire was following, complementing the melody by answering it, by countering it. 

In a strange sort of way, they were moving in sync, in equal but completely opposite movements. It was as if Grantaire read his movements, making him able to counter them. It was as if he half-expected the defences, and attacked accordingly. 

His eyes met Grantaire’s for a split second, and connected. 

His eyes went blank the split second afterward. 

………………………….

He opened his eyes and found several worried faces over him. He felt the mat behind him, as he lay over it. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I thought you would keep moving forward…” It was Grantaire, apologizing from just beyond his line of sight, covered as it were by Joly, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac. 

He felt the pain on the jaw that the newcomer was apologising for, all of a sudden. 

“Are you alright?” Combeferre asked. “That was quite the punch.” 

Enjolras blinked at his friends, kept staring at everyone as Joly quickly moved a penlight beam between his eyes. 

He knew it and felt it in himself. It was not the punch to his jaw that knocked him out. He had already lost his concentration before that punch connected with his jaw. It was probably the reason why his jaw got punched. 

When their eyes met, he felt it. He suddenly, overwhelmingly, definitely felt it. He felt relieved, assured, as well as shocked, repulsed. It hit him like a large ocean wave, drowning him then taking him inland with a strong current. 

They were synced. 

They were Drift-compatible.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No tumblr initial version. Partly because tumblr acts weird. 
> 
> Sorry for the interval between chapters. Thank you to the readers for liking.
> 
> *EEG's measure brainwaves and are generally used to evaluating seizure disorders. Functional MRI's (fMRI), besides checking what your brain tissue looks like, is able to evaluate brain activity. (just to explain what Joly is saying.)

"NO, Enjolras!" Joly followed the light of the resistance, keeping up with Enjolras's rapid footfall away from the mess hall. "It's been less than twenty-four hours! You're still under observation!" 

"I'm fine, thanks, doc," Enjolras growled as he marched, Joly trailing after him. 

"I can't be sure of that, not with the kind of equipment we have!" Joly protested. "We have brain scanners for the Drift. We have the closest approximation to real-time EEG's. Those do not necessarily match the capabilities of an fMRI!"

"I'll, be, fine, Joly, all right?" Enjolras repeated. 

Joly caught up with him and faced him squarely. "Fine enough to walk around, yes. But not to fight! Not to hold another audition! You're out of your mind!" 

Enjolras paused from the walking. "I need to be sure. I need to be absolutely sure that what happened yesterday was not a fluke." 

"Grantaire knocked you out for more than five minutes, SIR!" Joly reminded. "I cannot on good conscience allow a return to the mat twenty-four hours after a loss of consciousness of over five minutes." 

"Then keep watch for this one," Enjolras said, and entered the practice hall. 

He immediately headed to the showers, and slipped into his practice gear. 

That level of compatibility had never happened to him before. Never with Bahorel, and not even with Combeferre. Either there was an error in the system somewhere, or Grantaire was his Drift partner. Which was impossible, seeing that he had just arrived on the base. 

So he had told Grantaire to meet him at the practice hall in fifteen minutes. Grantaire would fight as his partner. They would fight an established team: Bahorel and Feuilly. 

He heard Joly's voice pleading with someone to stop the fight. Grantaire, probably. He heard a reply: "I'll keep an eye on him. And I'll do most of the work. Don't worry." 

Enjolras grumbled. But he was not going to let the new guy protect him and make him look weak. 

..........................................

Combeferre raised an arm overhead. He glanced ahead, to his left, to his right. He looked at the assembled crewmen of the base. "This has been designated as a special audition. Usual rules apply. Courfeyrac will be monitoring." The coordinator indeed was already staring down at his tablet, alight with multicolored waves. 

Muscular Bahorel, in a tank top and shorts, stood beside slender but sinewy Feuilly, in a tight shirt and cycling shorts. Bahorel smirked at Enjolras. Feudally grinned at Grantaire. Grantaire glanced for a moment at Enjolras, and smiled. Enjolras tossed his head. 

"Joly has demanded that the audition be stopped should anyone get knocked out," Combeferre announced to the group. "We will abide by the medic's request," he added, as Joly sighed with relief. 

Combeferre swung down. "Begin!" 

Grantaire immediately placed himself in front of Enjolras, as their opponents began to circle around them. "I'll try my best not to hurt you guys," he promised the opponents, one of them a previous acquaintance. "Let's just make this a practice fight, yeah? I get to know your skills, and you get to know mine, so we don't trip over each other during a real battle." 

"I don't object," Bahorel said, as they kept angling for position. 

"Will you stop shielding me?" Enjolras demanded from behind Grantaire. "I can take care of myself!" 

_But you're still dizzy from yesterday, and I can sense it,_ Grantaire spoke from deep inside his head. 

Enjolras rubbed his eyes. He was not sure if he sensed it right. A sensation deep in his head and his soul that the man in front of him had spoken to his insides. He had no idea why he was absolutely certain it was Grantaire, not, say, Combeferre or Joly, but he certain. He spoke aloud to be sure: "Even if that were true, I will do my share in this fight." 

_So let me do the tackling. Am I right that Bahorel moves slower?_

Enjolras blinked, stared at Grantaire's back. He was not sure how he managed to sense him so clearly. _Um...well...yes, Bahorel is slower. But his hits are sure and heavy._

_Okay._

Feuilly engaged, twirling in a swinging kick. Grantaire blocked, keeping Enjolras behind him. 

Grantaire veered toward Feuilly, and engaged him in a flurry of arms and legs. That left the lither Enjolras to circle and dance around Bahorel's slow, steady movements, not requiring Enjolras to actually engage the heavier fighter in actual attacks. 

_Bahorel can be engaged in this manner, distracting him from engaging you._ Enjolras kept talking in his head, talking to Grantaire. He was not sure why. _He is aware that you are the one doing most of the battling. As long as I can keep him busy, you can take down Feuilly._

_Okay._ Grantaire spun away from Bahorel and maintained the battle with Feuilly's kickboxing, blocking the strikes and delivering necessary arm twists and pushes. 

Feuilly backed away from the onslaught. Grantaire swerved and delivered some well-positioned punches to Bahorel's abdomen, making him bend over. 

_Feuilly's strength and weakness is balance,_ Enjolras sent out deep in his mind. 

_Got it._ Grantaire responded, also in the same depths, even as he tripped Bahorel to the mat. 

Seeing Bahorel down, Feuilly ran forward to strike. But Grantaire weaved around him, made him spin, made him lose balance...until Feuilly too was on the mat, catching his breath. 

The assembled crowd burst into whoops and shouts, as Grantaire quickly turned and faced Enjolras. 

Enjolras stared at him as well. How was it possible for him to communicate with Grantaire without talking? How did he manage to coordinate with him without actually speaking? Was it telepathy? Was it the part of the Drift? 

Whatever it was, it made his head hurt. He held his forehead as it began to throb. 

He quickly heard Joly beside him. "Are you okay?" 

Enjolras squeezed his head. "Run a scan, doc." His swimming eyes somehow found Courfeyrac. "Oh. And tell Jehan." 

"Tell Jehan what?" 

He was terribly reluctant to say it, but as he found Grantaire at the corner of his vision, he knew it had to be said. "Start calculating for Drift synchronicity."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also no tumblr equivalent. Not sure why, when this and the last chapter are about as on-the-fly typing as the tumblr posts. 
> 
> I'm a little fresh from watching Spectre. (Yes, I adore 00Q, especially in this movie. No, I'm not gutsy enough to write 00Q.)

Enjolras stared at the brain scans displayed on the control room monitors. One half of the display showed his, the other half displayed Grantaire's. On another monitor Jehan had laid out several graphs with colourful moving lines. 

His thoughts kept returning to a number and a message placed at a corner of the brain displays. 

98% Drift-compatible.

"He has just been here a few days! How is that even possible?" he demanded of Courfeyrac, Joly, and Jehan. 

'98% Drift-compatible' was something that happened before two fighters went out to battle, something driven to 100% before facing the kaiju, by aligning wavelengths and brain activity, by coordinating thoughts. A 70% level of compatibility during 'auditions' and simulations was generally acceptable, then ramped up to the 90's as practices smoothened out the differences. 

The voice in his head from the battle had stopped for the moment. CCTV showed Grantaire napping in his quarters. He had gone there immediately after Joly ran the brain scans for Drift synchronization. 

"Are you sure this guy is not a government spy?" Enjolras asked. The only way a newcomer could know him so well as to be 98% compatible was to have access to their files and their movements. 

"Feuilly vouches for him," Jehan said, manipulating the displays again, demonstrating the similarities of the brainwave amplitudes. "He swears R isn't government. He's actually too annoyed at government to be part of the government. And you've seen it: R's face is too honest." 

"Obviously you haven't been paying attention, light," Courfeyrac interjected with a chuckle. 

Enjolras scowled. "Paying attention to what?" 

"Grantaire has been going to our appearances in the city," Courfeyrac answered. "The press conferences after each battle. The underground recruiting meetings. He's been attending them." 

"How does he know about them?" 

"Through friends. Asking around. Seeing us walk," Courfeyrac said. 

"That still raises the possibility that he is a government spy," Enjolras countered. 

"If you raise that possibility, my friend," Combeferre answered, not looking up from the display monitor, "then you are judging my intelligence network. You think that we could not have weeded out a spy." 

"I raise that possibility." 

Combeferre finally turned and faced him. "Then you don't trust me, and you don't trust my work." 

"I do trust you and your work!" Enjolras said. "It's that...it's that drunk I don't trust." 

Courfeyrac got up, and stood between them. "Grantaire parties, he drinks, he brawls, sure. But he's not a bad person. Okay?" 

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "How in the world can you be so confident, of a man you all just met?" 

Jehan meekly raised a hand. 

"Yes?" 

Jehan faced one of the display monitors, and altered the display. He brought up brainwaves for Combeferre and Courfeyrac, bringing them up in parallel to each other. The individual brainwaves quickly aligned to each other, two colored lines moving in the same amplitude, brightening the same brain areas for Drift synchrony. The center and the coordinator were generally known to have 95% Drift compatibility in combat situations, 90% compatibility in general. 

He then showed Enjolras's and Grantaire's recorded data. The brainwaves initially were discordant. But Grantaire's brainwaves quickly aligned to Enjolras's two colored lines moving as one. 

"The center and coordinator like each other a lot," Jehan quietly said. "They work well together. Thus, they synchronize." 

The two C's glanced at each other. Combeferre shrugged, Courfeyrac scratched his head. But both grinned. 

Enjolras frowned. He folded his arms over his chest. "What are you trying to say?" 

"I am not sure what you think," Jehan said, as he pointed to the display again. "But R definitely likes you. Really likes you." 

"He's a stalker?!" 

Jehan shook his head. "But he knows you, and he seems to understand you." 

As much as Enjolras hated the idea, the numbers and the brain scans did not lie. 

He turned his back on all of them, and exited the control booth. 

He grumbled as he dragged his feet toward the hangar, where all the jaegers were kept, including the one being readied for him. 

He leaned heavily on the steel railings of the view deck, where he could see all the jaegers at once. The Flash Corinthian, operated by Bahorel and Feuilly, was nearest the door, always the readiest to deploy, and already filled with dents and bruises. A smaller one, the Paris Contradiction, was occasionally brought out by Eponine. 

Yet another jaeger had never deployed, was always kept in reserve, always tweaked and oiled by their young engineer Gavroche, but as a proof of concept. It was the jaeger being readied for him, for the time when a partner could be found, when he could fight kaiju on the scene. 

But now that they may have found a partner for him, thus a chance to fight in a jaeger...he did not know if he really wanted to. 

He needed time. But their time was unpredictable, and short.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was studying something. Sorry it's a long conversation and not much else, but I hope you like all the same.

"How much alcohol do you drink?" 

Grantaire, seated on one of the beds they used for brain scans, frowned at Joly. 

"For how many years?" 

Grantaire scowled. 

"Have you ever felt a need to cut down on drinking?" 

Grantaire folded his arms over his chest. 

"Have people annoyed you by criticizing your drinking?" 

Grantaire glared at him. He also glared at Enjolras, watching the proceedings. 

"Have you ever felt guilty about your drinking?" 

Grantaire maintained the glare. 

"Have you ever had a drink first thing in the morning to steady your nerves or get rid of a hangover?" 

Finally Grantaire answered, "NO. I get coffee." 

Joly glared back. "Shall I use the WHO-AUDIT test on you? Shall I make you walk the line? Or do I get a breath test?" 

"Do you know how many times I've had to answer those questions, doc?" Grantaire said with a sigh. "Will I ever give you whitecoats an answer you'll believe?" He looked up at Enjolras. "Will I ever give YOU an answer you'll believe?" 

Joly lowered the clipboard to his side. He sighed as he bowed his head. 

Grantaire looked at the floor. "Look. Just tell me if you don't want me here. I'll leave. No big deal." 

Joly lowered the clipboard to the table. "No, it's not that, really, newbie," he said. "I think I do want you here. But we've seen you attack the pantry. And...well..." 

Grantaire smirked as he chuckled. 

"You're supposed to a jaeger pilot, after all. And that much alcohol intake is, well, concerning. They will affect alertness, coordination, synchronization. If nothing else, I want to know why." 

"Why, what?" 

"Why you attack the pantry and drink up most of the stock in one go." 

Grantaire shrugged. "I do it for the buzz. Then...to forget. Then, to fall asleep. That's all." 

Joly raised the clipboard again. "Over the last two weeks, have you had little interest or pleasure in doing things? Have you felt down, hopeless, depressed?" 

"I've heard those two questions before, whitecoat," Grantaire chuckled bitterly. 

Joly focused on him. "And...the answer to those questions?" he asked, kindly. 

Grantaire shook his head. "Does it matter?" 

"Of course," Joly quietly said. 

Grantaire replied. "There are...things I want to forget. That's all." He sighed. 

Joly looked at him a long moment. 

Joly turned, then walked a short distance. He returned, rolling a stool in front of Grantaire. He then sat on the stool. Then, changing his mind, he bounded and sat beside Grantaire on the gurney. 

"Me being a whitecoat aside, newbie. Are you sure you'll be okay here? Are you happy here?" 

"Yeah, actually," Grantaire answered. "I probably don't look it, but, yeah." 

"Are you really okay being compatible with Enjolras?" 

Grantaire nodded. 

"Are you sure you can do this? Be a jaeger pilot, as Enjolras's partner." 

"I swear I'll do my best," Grantaire replied, looking up at the blonde-haired frowning young man. 

"But...what if..." 

"Coffee. Black. Straight-up. No cream, no sugar. Two cups. I'll be fine." Grantaire quickly said. "Red Bull gives me headaches, but they also work, in a pinch." 

"But..." 

Grantaire grinned, before he frowned. "Believe me, doc. It's not the drinking you should worry about me." He slipped off the gurney and stood. 

"What should I be worried about, then?" Joly asked. 

"Those two questions," he said, as he walked away. 

..........................

Joly scratched his head, as he looked up at Enjolras, watching from the control room. "Can we do the synchronization some other time?" 

Enjolras kept his scowl. "Try again tomorrow." 

His head felt heavy, with the multiple weights of something he could not understand, coming from outside him, yet filling his mind. 

If his head always felt like that, he'd also numb his brain in ethanol. 

He did not understand, but somehow, and he was not sure how...he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * The questions Joly gives in the opening are real: http://patient.info/doctor/cage-questionnaire  
> The mentioned WHO-AUDIT (Alcohol Use Disorders Identification Test) is a bit more specific, and a lot nicer in its wording. http://patient.info/doctor/alcohol-use-disorders-identification-test-audit  
> The other 2 questions are screeners for depression.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events here kinda messed with my brain for a few days. It's finally typed down. Hope you like. 
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and such.

It began around 9pm, as everyone was winding down for sleep. 

The collective groan of the whole base was probably louder than the sirens that came before it. It had subsided, as it always did, before Combeferre spoke from the control center. 

"Battle stations. Kaiju wait for no one, guys and girls," the center spoke on the public address. "We have a category 2, almost category 3, and it's moving fast. Gunners will take orders from me. Watchers, relay to the coordinator. Flash Corinthian, prepare to deploy." 

"What about me?" a chirpy female voice was quickly heard. 

"Take the jet, 'Ponine," Combeferre ordered. 

"We haven't run simulations or synchronizing for...the new pilot..." Courfeyrac reminded from his set of display monitors. 

"Noted," Combeferre said. "We'll not deploy the new jaeger, people. Enjolras is on tactical. Flash Corinthian and Eponine will receive orders from him." 

Enjolras nodded, his eyes already on a set of monitors keeping track of the kaiju, the jaeger already being lifted from the hanger, and the jet opening its hatch for its pilot. 

Combeferre scanned through the several monitors, determining the locations of their crew. Jehan's fingers were already flying at a keyboard as he scanned wave patterns and tracking systems. Joly was busy restocking emergency first aid supplies at the hangar, the gunner areas, and the exit/entry points. 

"Has anyone seen the newbie?" Combeferre asked no one in particular. 

But no one answered him, except in shrugs or heads shaken back and forth. 

Enjolras scowled. Combeferre sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Someone check the kitchen, please. In any case, he's assigned to Gavroche at the hangar for this battle." 

Enjolras rubbed his own temples, and chose to concentrate on Bahorel, Feuilly, and Eponine. " 'Ponine, circle the area. Top view. Relay all movements." 

"In the DARK?!" she reminded over the relay system. 

Enjolras rolled his eyes. Eponine was a great runner, but she needed clear broad instructions. "Run the spotlights. Check for change in the currents. Relay immediately." 

"The kaiju seems serpentine," Jehan added, the calculations appearing in a colorful graphic display. "Swimming in straight directio---" 

The base was rocked at its core, dislodging dust and light fixtures. The kaiju had hit it head-on. 

"Engage! Fire at will!" Combeferre ordered, and the artillery sounded. 

Eponine needed no further orders. She began shooting from the air at the water where the current shifted. 

Flash Corinthian jumped into the sea floor. "Where is it, 'Ponine?" Bahorel demanded. 

"Right! Right!" she called out from above. Her circles with the jet tightened. 

The jaeger took out its long spear from it back and twirled it, readying to aim. 

The water current suddenly shifted and twisted. It quickly sped deeper into the sea. "It's moving away!" she called out. 

"No," Jehan spoke quietly but firmly. "Readying to strike again!" 

"Raise shields," Combeferre ordered. 

The metal locking into place groaned all around them. "Shield raised," Courfeyrac relayed. 

"Gunners aim. Ready to fire on command," Combeferre added. 

"Arriving at 12 o'clock!" Jehan called out. 

"Don't make sudden movements, Corinthian," Enjolras added. "Ready to strike." 

"Spear-fishing, huh?" Bahorel chuckled. 

"On my mark," Enjolras said. 

Deafening silence. Everyone braced themselves for the strike, holding on to whatever was stable and near. 

Another strong force knocked against the base, shaking it again in two directions. 

"NOW!" Enjolras said. 

Flash Corinthian pierced the water. The spear hit flesh and bone. 

The creature screeched and wailed as it was lifted onto the surface, as the spear was thrust deep into its heart, as artillery rained from the base and the jet. 

As alien blood spilled into the ocean, Enjolras raised a victory fist. 

Flash Corinthian then nailed the kaiju to the ocean floor. The Corinthian raised its large sword, the secondary weapon, and severed the head from the serpentine body. 

Combeferre settled back onto his seat with a deep breath. "Close call. Good work, everybody. Thanks for moving quickly." 

That was the signal for everyone else to start whooping and clapping and congratulating everyone. 

It was when Enjolras turned to the door and found Grantaire standing, pale-faced, with widened eyes and half-dropped jaw. 

"I...I...didn't...I am..." 

Amidst the cheerful noise coming from all areas of the base, the control room itself grew painfully silent. 

The complete consternation of that face. It made Enjolras snap. "I don't need someone who doesn't even know there's a battle." 

"Really, I'm..." 

He tossed his head. "Before we need a new jaeger pilot, we need a reliable crewman. I'm not sure you are." 

"Enjolras!" Courfeyrac interrupted. 

But Grantaire lifted a hand. He sighed. "He's right, coordinator." He stared at the floor. "I'm...I'll be going now." 

He turned away and dragged his feet down the hall. 

.................................

The next morning was filled with cleanup duties. The kaiju's body parts were retrieved for study by Jehan. The alien blood was removed as much as possible, and also subjected to study. The base itself was repaired and the cannons reloaded. Gavroche and Bossuet busied themselves fixing what was dented from the Flash Corinthian. Joly, grateful for the minimal human damage, distributed band-aids and other wound dressings. 

"We confirm: no one has left the base, sir," the guards at their front gates answered Combeferre. 

"So he's still here. That's good," Combeferre replied, as he scratched his head. He turned to his blonde, scowling friend. 

"Control room?" Joly's voice, coming from the medical bay. "I think he's in his bunk?" 

"R?" 

"Yes," Joly said. "He hasn't appeared in the mess hall for breakfast, and lunch." 

Courfeyrac rapidly typed on the keyboard and presented the camera views of the bunk rooms. All were empty, including Grantaire's. Courfeyrac turned to his blonde, scowling friend as well. 

"Can you check on him, please?" Combeferre asked. 

"Where, though?" 

Enjolras held his head. It pounded for some moments. "Try the medical bay." 

"What?! Oh, NO!" Joly cut the line. 

Enjolras walked off to the medical bay, grumbling at himself. 

He found Joly turning the room inside out, throwing open all the doors and all the cabinets and drawers. Joly spilled the contents of a bottle, counting the pills onto the steel table. "Damn him, damn it!" He grabbed a manual and a calculator. He sat down then glared at Enjolras. "Damn it, light, what have you done!" He rapidly flipped through the manual and punched numbers onto the calculator. 

"What? What's going on?" Enjolras stared at the chaos. 

Joly grabbed a dextrose bottle, intravenous fluid tubings, and an IV catheter. "It can be managed with hydration and some antidote. But dammit, light, you weren't listening!" 

With the free hand he grabbed Enjolras's hand. He dragged him into a small nook of the large room. 

He pulled back the curtain, and showed him Grantaire, pale and unconscious, curled up on the bed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no guarantee that the chapter after this will come soon. Just typing down things while they can be typed and while they beg to be typed. Thank you for reading. More conversation.

Enjolras watched helplessly as Joly worked over and around Grantaire, pricking this, attaching that, hooking this to that, injecting this. The medic moved the patient as little as possible, but once in a while Enjolras heard some groans. 

The medic finally stopped hovering as he stood, regulated drops from the dextrose bottle, then sighed. 

"Will he be alright?" Combeferre asked over a dedicated line. 

Joly sighed again. "Probably. In a day or two." He looked toward Enjolras. "Would you mind if I talk to the light for a bit? Just him?" 

"I don't mind," Combeferre replied. "But I'll need updates." 

"Noted, center." 

They both heard the click that Combeferre had cut the line. 

Joly grabbed the nearest rolling stool and sat on it, facing Grantaire, his back to Enjolras. His hands shook over his knees. 

"Three tablets. He took three tablets. Took them at once," he said. "The maximum safe dosage is three tablets spread out over twenty-four hours. He took three all at once." His shoulders sunk. "The benzodiazepines have potentially lethal drug interactions with alcohol." 

Enjolras looked again at the chaos around him: opened and emptied cabinets, the opened red rolling cabinet filled with emergency resuscitation suppies, the upturned stools, the spread-open manual. "English, doc," he mumbled. 

Joly kept his back on Enjolras. "After he went to the control room, it seems R went here. He found the valium bottle, and took three. He wanted to sleep it off that badly, whatever you did." 

Enjolras shrugged, trying to hide that he sensed all the fright in Joly, clearly. "So he took several sleeping pills--"

Joly clutched at his knees, digging his nails into his legs. "Diazepam is not a simple sleeping pill. It's an anti-seizure drug. One of the fastest, and one of the more potent. It has a high potential to kill." 

Now Enjolras understood. He gulped. 

"Many people, intentionally or unintentionally, are dead because they took valium in a high dose after they had been drinking. R didn't attack the pantry last night," Joly added. "If he did, there's a chance we would not have a new jaeger pilot for long." 

"But..." 

Joly turned the stool, and finally faced Enjolras. "Fortunately for us, the intention last night was only to sleep deeply. Not to be dead." 

Enjolras stared at the medic. "....What?" 

"Though I won't be surprised if he had considered it." Joly maintained his own stare. "Enjolras. You weren't listening, not properly." 

"You've said that three times already, and I still don't understand!" he protested. 

"He said it himself. Enjolras, it's not Grantaire's drinking you should be most worried about. The excessive alcohol intake is only a manifestation of the core problem, but not THE problem."

"So, what is the problem?" 

"He also said it himself. Those two questions." 

"But those were screening questions." 

"They are questions in plain English, and I'm pretty sure you saw what happened, how he answered," Joly said. "He admits to depression." 

"So?" 

"Grantaire's default mode is self-destruct. His brain wants him to destroy himself to get rid of all the pain inside, to be free of it. Usually it's the beer. Sometimes, like now, it's stronger stuff. Anything that pulls him away from that self-destruct mode is generally a good thing. Anything that pushes him toward it...will hasten it. It doesn't have to be a big thing, either." 

"So now you're telling me, we accepted a depressive alcoholic?" 

"Yes." 

Enjolras pulled at his hair. "Why the hell is he still here?" 

"Because we are the best chance he has of not self-destructing. YOU are his best chance of not self-destructing," Joly said, glancing again at Grantaire. 

"Me?" 

"So when you push him away, tell him he's useless, that he doesn't deserve to be here, even with a 98% Drift-compatible status," Joly continued, "you will push him to self-destruct." 

"Me? But...why me?" 

"I don't know. I'm not sure. But you're not a lighthouse to him, like you are to me and practically everyone here and everywhere you go. You're his light and fire. Something like that." 

Enjolras sighed. That was new. Being followed was familiar to him; people gravitated to him naturally, and he naturally had a sense of how to lead them. Being a close friend was also familiar; he was accepted as he was, and he accepted his nearest friends as they were. But being someone's compass, the intersecting of those two familiar states of being...that was unfamiliar. 

He looked at Grantaire at the bed, as he turned and groaned in his dreamless slumber. 

"What...what do you want me to do?" he asked. 

Joly shrugged as he stood. He began collecting the strewn papers and smaller manuals on the floor. "Just...give him a chance. Okay? We're probably his last chance." 

Enjolras grumbled as he turned away from the bed, and walked toward the door. 

"Enjolras." 

From the door of the medical bay, he growled again at Joly. 

"He was at the simulation room when the sirens sounded. He was learning the controls."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, sorry.

"You okay? We heard you were at the sick bay." 

"I'll...I'll be fine, thanks. Um...I was wondering if you already have initial data on that kaiju the other day?" 

"Yeah, but they're rough. Sketches and notes." 

"That's okay. Can I borrow them for a while?" 

"Sure, just bring them back, I still need 'em." 

"Thanks, Jehan." 

......................................

"Hey, my friend! How was sick bay?" 

"I'll be fine, thanks. Would you possibly have the schematics for your jaeger? The Corinthian, right?" 

"I don't, but the kid probably has it." 

"Gavroche?" 

"Yeah. He's the main mechanical engineer, see."

"Oh, thanks." 

"R? You sure you're okay?" 

"I'll...be fine." 

...................................

"Oh! The new guy! Are you okay now?" 

"I'll be fine, thank you."

"You sure? You still look pale." 

"No worries, Gavroche. I'll be fine. Feuilly said you have the schematics for the Corinthian?" 

"What do you need 'em for?" 

"The simulator." 

"If it's for that, those specs are already encoded in, don't worry about it." 

"What about the schematics for the new jaeger?" 

"The light's? Oh, yeah, I haven't given those for encoding..." 

"Can I borrow them?" 

"I guess, just let me get them...but should you really be coding things right now?" 

"I'll be fine." 

.......................................

"Chill, newbie. Fixing the simulator is part of my job. Let me handle it." 

"No, it's okay, coordinator. If it's just inputing the new data, I can do it..." 

"It's computer coding you don't have training in, Grantaire. Thanks for getting the stuff from Jehan and Gavroche. I'll take it from here." 

"No, really, let me..." 

"Grantaire, stop beating yourself up about that battle. We haven't been using the simulator for a while now, since we keep seeing the real things. We forgot to put sirens there." 

"But...I should have...paid more attention..." 

"It was a newbie mistake. And I'll get you one of our communication watches. Those work anywhere in the base. It won't happen again." 

"Courfeyrac, I'm really sorry, about..." 

"R. You chose us. We chose you. You're one of us now. Okay?" 

"I...guess." 

"Good. Now go have lunch! You're still a bit pale." 

"I'll be fine." 

..............................................

_I'll be fine. I'll be fine._

In all the conversations Grantaire had around the base, Enjolras sensed the problem. 

_I'll be fine_ was Grantaire convincing himself. _I will be fine. I WILL be fine._

_I will be. Someday._

............................................

He found Grantaire eating lunch alone at a far corner, after everyone else had eaten, making his frame as small as possible. 

He took a deep breath, and walked up to him. 

He sat across from where Grantaire had his head sunk over a tray of chicken and pasta. As he did so, Grantaire looked away. 

"I'm sorry for making you and the doc worry," Grantaire quickly said. "It comes and goes. I'll be fine." 

"Look at me, Grantaire." 

The other cowered even more, and kept his glance away. 

"That's an order." 

Grantaire sighed, but slowly turned his head and raised it. 

Enjolras inhaled deeply as he locked eyes with him. 

"What I said was uncalled-for, and based on limited information. I apologize." 

Grantaire blinked once, twice. He kept his eyes on Enjolras. He tilted his head. He blinked again. 

"What happened was not your fault. If anything, it was ours. I'm sorry." 

Grantaire maintained the tilted head and blinking unbelieving eyes. 

"I'll...try to remember not to do that again." 

Grantaire's eyes grew large. 

"Oh, and...you can stay. We start proper practice in a few days. After Courfeyrac encodes all the new data. Hopefully none of the kaiju come visiting." 

Grantaire's jaw slackened. 

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "Are you okay?" 

Grantaire righted his head, then nodded. His mouth curved into a grin. "I'm fine."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will not be a Pacific Rim 2. There will be a Pacific Rim 2. If there will be a Pacific Rim 2, it will be several years of waiting. I don't know what to think or expect anymore. For now, there's fanfic. 
> 
> Sorry for the delay. I've been typing other things.

The base was kept busy with the aftermath of the latest kaiju attack. 

Many fixed the broken shields and fortifications. Gavroche was in the tweaking stage of his repairs, have completed the most important ones as soon as the attack was over. The pilots of the Flash Corinthian refined the controls from the inside, and helped in oiling and retooling the jaeger. Joly restocked on gauzes and bandages, having run out from handing them out to everyone. 

They kept alert. Courfeyrac and Combeferre kept receiving reports of attacks in other parts of the world. Enjolras maintained communications with the other branches of the worldwide resistance, giving what information was useful to them, accepting what information may be useful in the future. As one of the branches with a doctor (rather than a nurse), Enjolras kept fielding data and queries to be sent to Joly. 

"Has anyone seen Grantaire?" Combeferre asked, as a matter of course. He asked about everyone in turn, as well as anyone who was not on the monitors for a while. 

"Not here," Joly chimed. 

"He returned the schematics this morning," Gavroche also answered, "but I haven't seen him since." 

Courfeyrac, after the situation the other day, installed a CCTV camera at the simulator room. He checked on it. "There are a couple of lights on at the simulator room. I think he's practicing there." 

"Alright, leave him be," Combeferre said. 

Enjolras shrugged and resumed tracking the communication lines. 

..............................

The day moved on, with everyone doing his part of the work of the base, aware of the need to be prepared. Everyone gratefully dragged their tired feet into the mess hall for lunch. 

Except that Grantaire was not at the table with Bossuet and Feuilly. 

Enjolras found himself glancing at the empty space at the far away table, even as he gave the received updates from Hong Kong and Florida. 

He pressed on the communicator watched and tried to access Grantaire from it. The watch gave ringing sounds, but no answer. 

"You're worried about him," Combeferre said. 

"And you're not?" he replied. 

"I am, of course," Combeferre said, with a grin. 

"I have a right to be concerned," he added. 

"Yes, you do," Courfeyrac replied, with a wide smile. 

"What is the matter with both of you?" he said, glancing again at the empty space. "What if he does anything drastic again? It could jeopardize our strategy..." 

"If you're so worried, go check up on him, you know," Courfeyrac said, still smiling. 

"Fine, I will!" Enjolras grumbled as he stood. 

Combeferre raised a hand. "Seriously, though. When you find him, tell him he's been gone for hours, and I wish he'd keep me informed." 

Enjolras nodded, and took up his lunch tray. 

.........................

He headed to the simulation room. He found half of the mounted lights lit, keeping the area dimmed. 

The simulator was running, the pneumatics puffing, the gears groaning. 

He walked toward the control panel, where people monitored the simulations from the outside, as well as controlled whatever simulation was run. He was familiar with both being at the control panel and being inside the simulator. The actual battles and the lack of need for him to be in a jaeger, however, stopped his regular use of the room. 

He found the simulation set on Hard mode, the worst-case scenarios for the known jaegers and most proposed jaegers. The current simulation run showed the jaeger facing three kaiju at once, categories 3 and 4, with limited air and land backup. The jaeger was being pummelled. Vital signs monitors showed the tester with a rapid heart rate and breathing rate. The core temperature of the pilot was higher than normal. The overall temperature of the simulator was also higher than normal. 

Enjolras pressed on the microphone. "Grantaire, take a break. You're overheating." 

He was ignored. He checked the controls, and found that Grantaire had disconnected the mic from the inside of the simulator. He rolled his eyes. 

He tried the display, typing a quick message: "Abort simulation. Take a break." 

Again he was ignored. 

He had no choice. 

He typed in the override commands. He forcibly aborted the simulation, and unlocked the simulator. 

The simulator cockpit opened with a hiss of water vapor smoke. 

The pilot was loosened from the controls, and he tumbled onto the cockpit floor. 

Enjolras contacted Combeferre. "Can I get some water down here? And maybe Joly?" 

............................

The simulator's log recorded a continuous use of more than five hours, consistently at the Hard mode settings, running variations of the scenarios, repeating any failed scenarios in succession until kaijus were defeated. There were times in the past when Enjolras ran difficult simulations, and did not stop until the scenarios were won. But even he stopped to take breaks. 

"Self-destruct. Always on self-destruct," Joly muttered, keeping tabs on an ice bag over Grantaire's forehead as he lay on the floor. 

Enjolras checked on the simulator itself, running diagnostics on the pneumatics and the programs. "The last simulation had the data on the most recent kaiju. What exactly were you practicing?" 

"Fastest...way to kill it," Grantaire slowly said, in between gasps. 

"That took you five hours?" 

"Fastest...safest...way to kill it," Grantaire said. "Least...damage...to base." 

"And, did you find out?" 

"If...you did not abort...last simulation." He grinned. 

"If you have enough strength to talk, start sipping water, Grantaire," Joly interrupted. 

Grantaire dutifully lifted his head to and took several sips, but lowered it again and fell asleep. 

Enjolras sighed as he reviewed the simulation output. 

As he finished the review, he sighed again and shook his head at Grantaire, exhaustedly asleep with an ice bag on his head and his legs propped up on manuals. The strategy was smart, fast, and efficient. 

He did not know what to think anymore, about their new pilot.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long delay. Was making and fixing original stuff for a few months.

Enjolras woke up early. He found it hard to sleep, playing the simulation in his head. He wanted to try it for himself. He wanted to feel for himself how it could be done. The promise of a new battle tactic excited him. As long as it came from an ally, it was secondary to him that the new plan came from someone he did not particularly like. They were at war. Petty differences could wait. 

But when he got to the simulator room, he found Grantaire already there, calibrating the simulator. 

He tossed his head. "Shouldn't you still be resting?" 

Grantaire caught his breath. He looked up at him, as if caught committing a crime. 

Then he shrugged. "I'm okay." He looked down at the control panel again, pressing buttons and turning knobs. 

Enjolras approached. He changed the setting from the one-man simulation to the regular two-man piloting simulation. 

Grantaire paused. He looked up at Enjolras. 

"Run that plan with me," Enjolras told him. He crossed his arms and focused his stare at Grantaire. 

"You...you sure?" the other asked. 

"I want to be certain if we can actually use that strategy. Run it with me." 

Grantaire froze into a gaze. Enjolras swore he could hear a heart pounding in the silence of that room. He swore Grantaire did not breathe for a few seconds. 

Then Grantaire took a deep breath, and grinned. "Okay." 

........................

For the first few minutes, Enjolras simply walked around the simulated area, enjoying the feel of being in a jaeger again, actually moving his body himself to create motion, then to create action. Grantaire calmly pedaled along with him. 

Until he was already working the simulation, Enjolras had forgotten how long he was tactician for the resistance, never a pilot. It was around just a year in actual time. The kaiju had made it seem longer. When he defected to the resistance, his experience was more in single-pilot mecha. He had been assigned in two-person jaegers often enough to know how to operate them. 

The kaiju attacked, knocking the base at its foundation. 

He lost focus for a moment, but regained it as Courfeyrac's voice rang through the simulator cockpit, followed by Combeferre's, then Eponine's chirpy request to do something. The coordinator had added recordings of the last attack with the simulator data. 

"Patria, ready to deploy!" Enjolras called out to the simulator, changing the reality of the past. 

A computerized Combeferre replied, "Patria, deploying." 

He calmly allowed the simulation to render to ramp-up sequence and to send them to sea, while it also kept giving the centre's orders to the Flash Corinthian and Eponine's jet. 

The simulation gave the sense of water at the jaeger's feet, as it landed onto the sea and underwater sand. 

Enjolras began marching the jaeger forward. 

Jaegers moved like tandem bicycles, so one pilot's arm and leg movements affected the other pilot's arm and leg positions. Yet, Enjolras noticed, his part of the walking felt light, as if Grantaire pulled more of the weight of the jaeger. "Have you unbalanced the jaeger to your side?" he asked, to confirm. 

"Nope!" Grantaire replied. 

But it felt false. 

Not because Grantaire was a liar. It did not feel like that. Rather, Enjolras sensed that he was not being told the truth, because Grantaire was embarrassed by the truth. 

Combeferre's intelligence report stated that Grantaire had some para-military background to him, but never lasted on that side of the law. Whatever jaeger experience he had was as hard-knocks as his mixed martial arts: based on solid foundations but practiced on the streets. He had drifted into a few other resistance cells before finding himself Bossuet's and Feuilly's friend, as part of Combeferre and Courfeyrac's field of influence.

If the drifter knew a few irregular styles and methods, Enjolras should not have been surprised. But he was. 

"You DID unbalance the jaeger settings," he repeated. 

"I only rearranged the pneumatics for more stability," Grantaire finally admitted. 

Enjolras sighed. 

The kaiju snaked between the Patria and the Corinthian. 

"Well?" Enjolras prompted. "Execute the plan." 

"But you already looked through it, you do it!" Grantaire replied. 

"Your plan, remember?" 

"Your jaeger!" 

The kaiju circled around them. 

Then it roped the jaeger's feet together. 

The Patria tripped backwards, falling into the sea. 

The jet launched its attack, and the Corinthian delivered the final blow...but the simulation declared a game over. 

The cockpit screen reddened then darkened. 

Enjolras punched at the cockpit. "Damn you, Grantaire!" he said. "I already told you to start running it!" 

"I was just waiting for you," the other answered. 

"I told YOU to run it!" 

"I'm sorry." 

The simulator cockpit screen brightened again, and showed Courfeyrac shaking his head at them from the control panel. 

"You really haven't been a pilot for a while, light!" the coordinator said with a grin and a chuckle. 

"Explain!" Enjolras immediately demanded. 

"It's basic, old pal!" Courfeyrac said. "In order to pilot a two-man jaeger, you have to move as one unit. That's why you have to be Drift-compatible, remember?" 

"I know that--" 

"Yeah, you do. But you've forgotten how. You have to move as one unit, think as one unit. Not pedal a tandem bicycle like two people!" 

"Me? Think as one unit?" Enjolras screeched. "With HIM?!" 

It was the last straw. 

Grantaire pressed the 'Eject' button. 

The simulator cockpit opened. Grantaire unbuckled harnesses, and wordlessly hopped out of the cockpit.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brain is currently running a bit for this story, since it doesn't want to make some short stories.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. He watched Courfeyrac try talking to Grantaire, and completely failing to stop Grantaire from walking onward. 

Courfeyrac sighed after him. Then he turned around and frowned at Enjolras. 

"What?" he asked. 

Courfeyrac gave another sigh as he patted Enjolras at the shoulder. "Enjolras, pal. We've been through a lot. You know I'll follow you to hell and back. I know you care about people. You're wonderful with the speeches. But you're hopeless with individual persons." 

"Eh?" 

"Every person is a soldier, a chess piece, to you, oh wise general," Courfeyrac said with a chuckle. "That kinda thing won't work with R." 

Enjolras crossed his arms. He did not need to coddle people! He needed people ready to fight! People willing and able to take down the alien threats, and help him save his section of mankind! 

Courfeyrac returned to the control panel. He pressed buttons and pulled levers to shut down the simulator. "R doesn't want to be one of your soldiers. He wants to, at the very least, be your friend, and thus be able to fight with you. Do you understand?" 

Enjolras was not sure if he did. 

.......................................

Both Enjolras and Combeferre followed after Grantaire, but the newcomer had a large headstart over them. 

They found him at the control room, standing before Combeferre. The center looked at Grantaire, then quickly glanced up at Enjolras as he reached the door. Combeferre raised an eyebrow as he cocked his glasses up. "How can I help you?" 

Grantaire kept his head down, watching his shoes, as his hair tumbled over his face. "Um...I'd like to be reassigned, please." 

Combeferre looked past Grantaire and back at Enjolras, raising an eyebrow at him again. But Combeferre addressed Grantaire. "You'll have to explain that, newbie." 

"I'd like to be reassigned. That's all." 

The center kept his eyes on the light and the coordinator, and silently sought for an explanation. Courfeyrac grinned, rolled his eyes and thumbed toward Enjolras. Enjolras glared at him again. 

"I see," Combeferre said, addressing all three. He sighed. 

Grantaire kept his head lowered before him. 

"But you're staying?" Combeferre asked. 

"Yes," Grantaire said, behind the tumble of hair. 

"You just want to be reassigned." 

"Yes." 

"Away from Enjolras, I take it?" 

Enjolras bristled and glared at Combeferre. 

"Yes," Grantaire answered. 

Combeferre scratched his head and shoved his glasses back up over his eyes. "In the first place," he said to Grantaire, "it's the coordinator who's responsible for that. But if it's me you're asking, you can help Gavroche with the repairs." 

Grantaire finally lifted his head. "Okay." 

"But." Combeferre lifted an index finger. "On one condition." 

Grantaire's head tilted to one side, as the two others raised eyebrows. 

"We accepted you into this base as a jaeger pilot," Combeferre said. He kept his eyes on Grantaire. "I did not accept a new mechanic, not a spare, and definitely not a beer keg." 

Grantaire sunk his head again. 

"While on standby status, you can help Gavroche with the repairs." He looked up, and locked eyes with Enjolras. "But in a battle, I expect you to be a jaeger pilot. Operating the Patria. With full Drift synchronicity. With Enjolras." 

Grantaire sighed deeply onto his chest. 

Combeferre kept his eyes on Enjolras. "Are we clear?" 

Grantaire, however, raised his head and blocked his view. "Yes, sir." 

Enjolras tossed his head and looked away. 

Combeferre shifted his eyes back to Grantaire, and gave him a smile. "Good. In that regard, work out a system with Courfeyrac, so you can keep up your simulator practice, okay?" 

"Okay," Grantaire replied. 

Combeferre kept the smile. "Go on and have breakfast." 

"Okay." 

Grantaire turned, found the other young men. He sighed deeply. He smiled shyly at them both, and walked past them out of the control room. 

As Combeferre repeatedly shook his head at his two closest comrades, he pressed the button for the medical bay. 

"Yeah, center?" Joly cheerfully acknowledged. 

"I told Grantaire to get breakfast. Just check that he really does, or where he went if he didn't." 

"Noted, center." Joly cut the line. 

Combeferre pulled out a chair and sat on it, leaning and tilting it back. "Enjolras, really. What did that guy ever do to you?" 

Enjolras growled at him. 

"Settle your differences with him. Or we'll keep not having a second jaeger. Soon enough we'll lose to the kaiju. And it may be because the light didn't want to pilot with a drunk." 

"What!" Enjolras snapped. 

Combeferre shrugged. "I am merely stating realities." 

Enjolras stomped off. 

His two nearest friends were not taking his side. What was the world coming to?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter of this story was around September last year, when said LesMis was coming to my country. It already is here in my country (March-April). I managed to watch it (new production, LED-screen-type) with K and stormberry and two more friends, ending a 20-year history of just imagining what you can from the book, the soundtracks, the anniversary concerts, and the movie. 
> 
> So forgive my ignorance is this is the first time I saw how R fusses over Gavroche in the musical (technically this is not in the book-- technically speaking R was so wasted he was not even moving around the barricade, if you believe the brick). I'm not sure if other productions have it, but I do like it very much. The R we got (Hugo Chiarella) was very, VERY good, and worked incredibly well with the Enjolras (Chris Durling). I felt it hard in the feels when the inevitable happened. 
> 
> Thanks for reading the squeeing.

Grantaire stayed at the jaeger hangar, helping the young mechanic Gavroche with repairs, primarily for the jaegers. Enjolras watched from the control center, peering at CCTV shots. 

"Stop worrying, old pal," Courfeyrac said, scanning through the displays and the other panels. "He'll be fine." 

It did look that way: the mechanic and his new assistant laughed often while working, chattering while tightening bolts and inspecting loose screws. The young mechanic pointed to this and that, explaining which part was what and what each jaeger could do well. The assistant listened intently, taking it all in. Grantaire lifted the boy for some tasks, carried boxes or pulled trollies through the hangar, and often reached for things in higher ledges. Grantaire's friends came around and joined them for some chatting. Other people in the base waved, said hello, had the two do some tasks for them. He seemed to be enjoying it all. 

Enjolras frowned as he watched. 

"You're jealous." The coordinator nudged him with an elbow. 

Enjolras snapped. "Why should I be jealous of a boy?" 

"Not jealous -that- way," Courfeyrac said with a chuckle. "But you wish he'd be as happy around you like that, yeah?" 

Enjolras tossed his head. 

........................

Taking advantage of the current lull in attacks, they resumed the sorties in the city, doing one of the things Enjolras was absolutely sure he was good at: rallying support for the resistance movement, rousing people to volunteer for the cause. 

Unless busy with major repairs, Grantaire came along with them. He stayed at tables in far corners, listening from the back as people crowded around Enjolras. He was always surrounded by several bottles of beer and several empty shot glasses. 

"Why do you still come with us to these things?" Bossuet asked him once. After all, Grantaire did not help with the recruiting nor the convincing. 

Grantaire would lift his head from behind the several bottles, his face flushed and his eyes reddened. "I just like listening to him talk, see?" 

"And get different kinds of craft beer?" 

"Yeah, that too," he said with a chuckle. 

Enjolras grumbled and ignored him. 

But he could not ignore the voice in his head. 

_Why should they join you?_ it asked him, as he looked at a frowning crowd. 

"Why should you join us?" Enjolras asked the crowd, answering the voice. "Because we continue to fight. Our governments have resigned themselves to saving the populace after the attacks. We continue to be convinced that these aliens can be defeated, on our terms." 

_That's not enough reason, for people who want to stay alive, you know._

"I know you want to remain with the living," he said, answering Grantaire in his head, while answering the crowd. "But this is a life of cowardice, of accepting what the aliens will do to us. We have a choice, to take life by the reins and defeat these enemies!" 

_You just called them cowards, you know._

"Yes, I think you are cowards!" Enjolras answered. _Shut up, I'm driving home a point_ , he answered the voice in his head. "Do you want to remain cowards, while our enemies destroy our lands and kill our loved ones? Do you want to remain cowards, while these creatures do what they want with our oceans?" 

_Okay....keep it up..._ the voice in his head urged. _Now what do they do, step-by-step?_

"Join us!" Enjolras quickly answered, as he raised a fist. "Support us with weapons. Help us with information. Better yet, join us as we battle those creatures!" 

_What? But not everybody is a pilot like you!_

"We need men and women and friends who can support those who can pilot the jaegers. We need gunners. We need more pilots. We need IT specialists. We need engineers. We need medics. No matter your trade, no matter your level of experience, you can help us as a part of the resistance." 

But as Enjolras scanned the crowd and observed the tables, he found Grantaire, his head already sunk over his table. How was he doing that, keeping up the exchange? 

Enjolras ignored the sudden thought, as he continued to speak to the group, quickly gaining ground with them, watching the number of nodding heads increase, listening to the murmurs of agreement rise. 

..............................

They managed to get several more supporters from that meeting, regular access to ammunition lines, and some people willing to assist with mechanical knowledge. 

When Enjolras looked again, the table no longer had a drowsing young man, but still had all the bottles. 

He stopped Combeferre as he passed. 

"Good work, as always, light," the center said. 

"Thanks, but... are we all accounted for?" he asked. 

Combeferre's eyes darted as he did a rapid head-count. "Yes." 

"Then, where is..." 

"If you're worried about Grantaire, he's asleep. Bossuet put him in the van already." 

Enjolras, in spite of himself, sighed with relief. "Is he always going to do this?" 

"Drink the beer wherever we go? I guess so," Combeferre said. 

"No, no." He held his head. "Is he always going to talk me through the speeches?" 

The center turned to stare at him. "He does that?" 

He rolled his eyes, but nodded. 

"Does it help, though?" the other asked. 

"I...don't know." The interrupting thoughts both disrupted whatever thinking process he had going, but it also helped refine and shape whatever thoughts he already had. 

Combeferre shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you. At least he's on our side, yeah?" 

Enjolras rolled his eyes.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will eventually be winding down this set. Just saying. Since it's already 14 chapters and all.

Enjolras looked at the people assembled at the bar, young men and women bustling while holding glasses or bottles. Courfeyrac busied himself rapidly finding friends and allies. Combeferre scanned the crowd as well, his sharp eyes darting around for signs of spies or informers. 

Meanwhile his mind gave him some added information. 

_Mixed crowd. Some of them have heard of you or your reputation. Others are worried about that reputation._ Grantaire mingled within the crowd itself, weaving in and out, saying hello to friends, listening in quietly on conversations by strangers. _They're scared of getting involved. Afraid of government action._

"That's just because they're weak," he replied aloud, to no one in particular. 

_You're not listening, light. They are not weak. But they ARE afraid._

"Make your point, before you--" 

_What can you tell them that will make follow you, even with their fear, oh, light of the Paris resistance?_

"I have some things to say!" He raised his voice...and made the crowd turn toward him. 

_Cool. Do your thing, then, sir._

Enjolras quickly looked up and found Grantaire settling onto a bar stool, with a tall cold bottle of beer before him. 

............................

So it went for several more evenings, as they went the rounds of the assembly halls, house basements, and bars. And yet Grantaire managed to be wake and functioning the next morning, working well with Gavroche in the hangar, tweaking the two jaegers and the cannons. 

The other avoided his gaze during lunch, keeping his conversations to his friends and to Gavroche. It made him gaze at the co-pilot more -- for some reason he began to properly think of Grantaire as the co-pilot, even if they did not properly practice at the simulator again. His voice in his head kept ringing every night, after all, warning him of this and that, encouraging him about this and that. 

_This crowd is false._ The voice in his head warned him, one night. 

"Impossible," he said, quite to himself, and to the voice in his head. "These are already known supporters of the resistance. We are just here to maintain the support, and to gain more supporters." 

_This crowd is false, I tell you._

"On what grounds?" 

_I don't know. But the eyes of many of them are shifty. People are whispering. They avoid the two C's when they pass. There's something fishy about this._

"You have no proof, and yet you tell me all this?" 

_At least let me warn Combeferre..._

"Fine! Do what you want!" he snapped. "But we have had previous dealings with these people, and I know them..." 

_Please. Listen. These people will turn you in. If not you, one of us. Do something._

He had it up to his ears with the voice. He threw all his thoughts, and answered in his head: _If this is all you are good for, shut up. Right now._

The sensation in his brain paused, heavily, deeply. 

_But..._

"I said shut up already!" He threw his whole brain into it again. 

_...Okay._

And the voice in his brain stopped. 

He launched into speaking with the people he was absolutely sure about, as he glanced Grantaire talking to Courfeyrac, then disappearing to a far corner of the bar. 

................................

He noticed the bouncers, and their own 'bouncer' Bahorel, weaving in and out of the bar, throwing people out with a grumble and sometimes loud protestations. Most of these were after rapid consultations with Combeferre. Still he chose to ignore these movements, to plunge into the speech to the whole group in particular, to charge into speaking to specific individuals, garnering their continued support. 

What he could not ignore was the absolute silence in his brain, the sound of silence, of his thoughts echoing in his mind without a counterpoint, without a refuting. 

There was absolute nothing silence, a painful and terrible silence. Like its source had cut off from thinking completely. 

His heart started to pound in his chest. 

He stopped Courfeyrac as he passed. He squeezed his shoulder. "C. Where's the voice in my head?" 

"Ow. Ow!" Courfeyrac said, making the other immediately release him. "Whaddya mean?" 

"Something's wrong," he said urgently. "Find Grantaire." 

There must have been something in his face that made Courfeyrac grit his teeth and say, "I'm on it." 

Combeferre passed, and Courfeyrac quickly talked to him, before they split and scoured the tables. 

After a minute he heard Combeferre. "Light!" 

Enjolras parted the crowd and headed to the voice. 

He found the co-pilot on the floor, with a deathly pale face and colourless lips. 

"We have to go. NOW," the center said. 

He blanched as he agreed. 

.........................

He watched helplessly again as Grantaire was placed onto a gurney and wheeled into the medical bay. He walked silently, trailing behind the others. 

He watched in confusion as the others explained the situation to Joly, as Grantaire was transferred onto a hospital bed. 

"Absinthe! Vodka! What the hell!" Joly quickly headed to a red rolling medical cabinet, the one he called the 'crash cart', the cart for emergency medications. In a stationary cabinet he grabbed a dextrose bottle and the tubes that went with them. 

"And beer. Lots of it," Bossuet added. 

Joly sighed as he drew out blood and placed it into a covered test tube. He set the test tube whirring inside a machine. He turned to their leader. "Enjolras, what happened now?" he asked. 

Enjolras's face was steeled into calm, but inside he panicked. He looked at everyone, and wondered why everyone kept following him, for all his mistakes. He did not know how to answer. What DID he do now? 

He stared blankly as Joly assured the others that Grantaire would probably be okay by tomorrow. The others funnelled out of the medical bay, as Joly had a pink-colored dextrose setup running. Only Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Enjolras remained. 

Joly's machine printed out a small piece of paper. The medic retrieved the paper. He read the contents, and shook his head with a heavy sigh. 

He thrust the paper at the three heads of the resistance. Enjolras found a four-digit number. 

"His blood-alcohol level is to the roof," Joly explained with a cringe. "This will take at least 24 hours to clear out of his system. Now I ask, what the hell did you do to make him reach this blood-alcohol level?" 

He gulped. He paled again. He had just said a line, two lines. Maybe more? 

"I...I...I didn't think he'd do this..." he faltered, looking wildly at his two friends. 

"Pray that we don't get any kaiju attacks for 24 hours, sir," Joly said, diving into his work and ignoring all three. 

He dropped onto a stool and watched helplessly, going again through the hours of his night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- To someone without medical background, Joly in the brick is a hypochondriac. But we promise you that ALL medical students turn hypochondriac at some point in their education, and Joly was being quite normal. The entire brick also tells me he's quite the normal med student, with a love life even, with the guts to join the revolution even. 
> 
> But to keep a little with this rather-worrying-about-medical-conditions thing he has, In this story (and the ones before it that are its sequels) this translates into Joly being something of a fast-draw semi-panicky medic. 
> 
> \- Pink-colored dextrose is dextrose with vitamin B infusion. It's part of the setup for dealing with alcohol overdose.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting to wind down, but it will be a few more chapters.

He sat beside the hospital bed, sighing at himself for the hundredth time while watching Grantaire's chest rise and fall in regular breaths. 

He heard a gentle voice beside him. "Chief?" 

Among them he was considered the leader, and he was proud of the fact. Yet he, and they, also considered him their equal in most situations. He was one of the three who gave the orders, but he was Enjolras. But Joly came from a world with a hierarchical authority structure, no matter how friendly it was in actual practice. In calling him the 'chief', he heard Joly's acknowledgment of his authority over them, but also heard the medic's concern for his superior. 

"Chief. Go to bed. He'll be fine," Joly assured him. The medic held a mug with a teabag's tag dangling from its side. "Green tea?" 

He took the mug. "Thank you." 

He sat silently, sipping the tea, while Joly recalibrated the dextrose drops and lines. 

He sighed again. "I keep doing everything all wrong." He shook his head. He stopped his eyes back at Grantaire on the bed. 

Joly chuckled once as he finished checking the drops. "If I may, light?"

"Yes?" 

Joly stopped in front of him. "Completely unscientific. But I understand that is called the beginning of a relationship." 

His head snapped up to look at Joly. Joly shrugged with a chuckle as he took up the mug, and walked away.

But he could not make himself go to bed, to walk far away from this newcomer who kept barging into his thoughts. He stayed beside him and kept helplessly watching. 

.........................

He found himself in the gym, with its large square practice mat. Before him stood the new co-pilot. Apparently his brain had finally accepted the fact that Grantaire was the co-pilot. 

The co-pilot had a dagger pierced through the chest, blood trickling in a small stream in front of his tank top. 

He gasped. He wanted to run up to him, check if he was alive and fine. But Grantaire remained silent and standing before him, staring at him intently. 

His brain registered a dream, or a Sync. But it was still unnerving. 

He stepped forward. The blood kept trickling. It fell to the mat. He moved forward again. Grantaire sighed as he kept his gaze. 

He placed another foot forward. 

The dagger went in deeper. The blood flowed faster. The trail of red on the tank top widened. 

He backed away. 

"It is painful, being with you, you know," Grantaire spoke, as the blood continued to drip onto the mat. "Every day is kinda like this." 

Enjolras kept his distance. "No one is asking you to do this to yourself," he said, as nonchalantly as he could muster, but failing. 

"I can't help it," Grantaire said with a sigh. "I don't even ask your permission. I just want you to know." 

Enjolras stepped forward again. "Why?" 

"I don't know," the other said. 

"But...I don't know how to help you," Enjolras said. 

The dagger twisted. An extra spurt of blood emerged. A small pool of red formed on the mat. 

"At least...let me stay. Let me help you. If I can." 

Enjolras backed away again. "How?" 

"I...don't know." 

Enjolras took a deep breath, and decided. 

He quickly took two strides, until he was beside him. 

Grantaire stopped breathing, as Enjolras took up his hand, and surrounding it in both his own. 

Grantaire managed to breathe again, as Enjolras looked into the depths of his eyes, finding pools of deep darkness, pierced by light. 

The dagger remained, but the bleeding ceased. 

"I will never understand you," Enjolras said. "But you are one of us. You are part of me." 

He kept Grantaire's hand in his. 

......................

"Chief. CHIEF! Enjolras! Hey!" 

He drowsily became aware of Joly shaking him hard at the shoulders. The sounds of blaring sirens slowly registered in his brain. 

It tended to be Combeferre's frustration that he was hard to wake. Joly, Combeferre, and often Jehan slept like cats, up and alert at the quickest thing, quickly asleep when the moment allowed it. He and Courfeyrac were coffee-fueled people, who stayed awake until the the storm had passed, then crashed completely. 

He had fallen asleep beside Grantaire, his hand clasped in the other's. He glanced up at the clock. Nearing sunrise. It had only been a few hours of sleep, but it had felt longer than that, and deeper, more peaceful than it had been in a long while. 

The sirens began to finally ring in his brain, in his ears. 

"We have an attack, chief." Joly's voice was finally sinking into his brain. "Jehan just sounded the alarm. Go." 

He rubbed his eyes. He grumbled through the drowsy daze. "What about..." 

"Leave R to me. He'll be fine. You have to go!" 

With a can of cold coffee in his right hand, he was dragged out of the medical bay. 

The kaiju waited for no one, not even cynics who drank themselves to death, not even cynics who mess with your brain and made it feel at peace in the midst of its own confusion. Not for cynics who made one worried, for once in his life, that he was not doing right by him, that it mattered that he did not. 

He grit his teeth, and ran for the control room.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay again. 
> 
> Story is winding down. Not sure how many chapters it will take, though.

Enjolras rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he gulped down vending-machine canned cold coffee. The alarm sirens still blared. People ran past him in the hall in both directions. 

He burst into the control room, throwing down the empty coffee can onto a small bin. Combeferre was sipping at a warm styrofoam cup of coffee as his eyes rapidly darted across many monitors. Courfeyrac was gulping down a second bottle of energy drinks while rapidly typing. 

"Updates," he demanded. 

"One Category 3, almost Category 4," Combeferre answered immediately, not taking his eyes off the monitors, but pointing to several. "Reptilian, dinosaur-like, moving quickly on hindlegs." 

"Two legs, huh. Easy to trip?" he asked. 

"Probably not," Combeferre said. He pointed to the monitor that showed Jehan's schematic data on the monster. It was an imposing figure, closer to the speed and agility of a tyrannosaurus than anything they battled before. "It looks fit and fast as these kaiju come." 

Enjolras took a deep breath. On the monitors, people scrambled at the hangar as the jaeger prepared. Others rushed toward their stationary weapons as they took battle stations. "Cannons?" he asked. 

"Already out." 

"Jaegers?" 

"I've heard from Joly. You're on tactical." 

Courferyrac added: "Corinthian is deploying right now. 'Ponine is also moving out on the jet." 

Enjolras nodded.

"Guys!" Courfeyrac interrupted. "The kaiju's headed for town!" 

The other two leaders turned in unison toward a map, bleeping the kaiju's movement toward a landmass other than their base. 

Combeferre clenched his teeth and lifted his glasses over his nose. He pressed the button for the PA system. 

"Alright, boys and girls," the center said, his voice carried through the base. "Our main objective at this point is to distract the kaiju away from the populace. That also means we are attracting it to ourselves. We also have to do this while protecting the people. Raise the shields to full. Cannons: be ready to fire when ordered. Coordinator: inform the national defense to get ready...." 

"Um...we're the resistance, in case you're forgetting!" Courfeyrac interrupted. 

"Inform the media so they can inform the national defense," Enjolras chimed in. "It shows we'e not giving in to the government, but we want to help the people. Do it now." 

"Okay!" Courfeyrac dived again into his typing as he pressed contact panels. 

Combeferre continued. "Eponine: maintain aerial camera. We need a clear view of the kaiju and its location with the town. Corinthian..." 

"You don't need to tell us!" Feuilly answered for the pilots. "We'll block the kaiju's path and send the fight to it." 

Combeferre smiled. "Precisely." 

"Moving into position, center!" the Corinthian acknowledged. 

That left Enjolras watching everything, not sure how to help. This was a situation that required an overall strategy more than it requiring fighting tactics. As long as the got the kaiju away from the town, the fighting could be done with basic fighting. 

Courfeyrac displayed all the current positions, in relation to the base. The Corinthian was being flown around the kaiju and in front of the town harbor, barring the kaiju's path. "But this setup leaves the base still vulnerable," he noted. "We're bringing the kaiju toward us, but Corinthian won't be able to protect us AND the town." 

Combeferre walked to the trash bin and threw in the empty styrofoam cup. "I know," he said. He kept his eyes away from Enjolras. "But we'll have to work with what we have." 

Enjolras lowered his gaze to the floor. 

Combeferre patted his friend's shoulder. "Keep your focus on Corinthian. Leave the rest to me." 

But another voice came from the door. 

"Let us deploy." 

All three turned and found Grantaire at the control room entrance, holding gauze over the back of one hand. The gauze had a small circle of red. He had pulled out the insertion of the dextrose line. 

He looked straight at Enjolras. He straightened himself into military stance at the door. "Permission to deploy, sir," he repeated. 

Combeferre sighed and scratched his head. "But..." 

Grantaire kept his stiff stance. "Courfeyrac said it: the base is vulnerable to attack. The available jaeger will actively engage the kaiju while blocking its from the town, but once engaged there is no offense to protect the base. So, let the new jaeger deploy." He kept his pleading eyes on Enjolras. 

Enjolras tossed his head. "The medic said to give you twenty-four hours." 

Grantaire chuckled bitterly. "Yeah, I've heard that before. But I've had six hours solid sleep, and I've had coffee. The coordinator knows I've been practicing at the simulator. Your engineer knows I've tweaked the jaeger to improve on it. I know how the new jaeger works. Let me in it." 

The pleading rang inside Enjolras's brain. _Let me help you. Please. Let me help. Give me a chance to prove myself to you._

Enjolras rubbed his forehead, knitting his brows together. "I know the strategy needs an offence here. But a pilot not at full capacity could be a liability." 

"Am I a liability?" Grantaire directly countered. 

Combeferre blocked Enjolras from surging forward. "All we're saying is if your body is not up to this, you might hold us back instead of helping us, and we might lose you as well," he said with as much kindness as he could give. 

An incoming communication interrupted the exchange. "Center! We're in position," Feuilly reported. "What're your orders?" 

The pleading rang again. _Please let me help. Give me a chance to prove myself to you._

"I can handle it, center. Request permission to deploy," Grantaire repeated. 

Courfeyrac and Combeferre breathed deeply, almost together. Then they turned to Enjolras. "This is a two-man jaeger, light," Courfeyrac reminded with a grin. 

Enjolras alternated his gaze between his close friends and his co-pilot. He wanted to admit that he was worried, afraid, frightened. An untried jaeger, an untried pilot team, an untried co-pilot. "We haven't practiced. Properly," he answered. 

"Oh, come on. You have 98% Drift compatibility!" Courfeyrac kept grinning. "I think Jehan and I can smoothen out the rest. So?" 

His heart pounded. He felt the sweat at his forehead and the back of his neck. He kept not understanding his co-pilot, kept not knowing how to be around him. He did not know how he felt about Grantaire, and how Grantaire felt about him. He did not know if by piloting the new jaeger, he would cause more harm than good. 

"Um, control? Requesting orders?" Feuilly's voice came in again. 

So did Eponine's. "I have visual on the kaiju and the town. Kaiju is 5 kilometres from landfall and closing." 

That was too close. Flash Corinthian would quickly have to engage, and thus be weaker. It would be unable to hold off a strong and fast kaiju alone. 

Enjolras controlled his breath. "Okay. Fine." He looked to Grantaire. "Let's do this."

Combeferre coughed into a fist. "Let's get to work, then." 

The center pressed the PA button again. 

"Engineering: ready the hangar. Prepare the jaeger Patria to deploy. I repeat: the Patria will deploy."


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three days of on-and-off work, finally done. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and kudos-ing and commenting and such.

They ran to the hangar. 

A lift was ready when they arrived, which raised them up toward the Patria's cockpit. Enjolras took in just how large a jaeger was as the lift sped up through the jaeger's height. 

He took a quick glance at the co-pilot, but Grantaire looked straight in front of him, watching the jaeger. Grantaire clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides.

He felt confused, unmoored, strange. It was his first time, in many months, to not be in charge of tactical, be to be on the field. He was no longer a coach, standing on the sidelines, monitoring the action and deciding the movements from there. He was, once again, part of the team. While it did feel good to be in the heat of things, it made him worried. He did not know if he had in him to think on his feet, to lead in direct battle. 

Of course he dared not show his fears to anyone on the base. He kept his head up as people fussed around him, strapping on gear and sensors onto his person, attaching him properly into the pilot seat. 

Beside him, Grantaire was silent as other people strapped on and attached. 

"I made it in time, and the pneumatics are now fixed to spec," Gavroche chirped rapidly to Grantaire while attached sensors and cables. "The view panel is also wider, so hopefully you'll be able to see more of the action. What else...." 

"What about the ventilation?" Grantaire asked. 

"Also fixed, R, with temperature sensors. Oh, and Light, sir? I fixed the communicators and transmitters. Hopefully transmissions to Control should be clearer." 

"Thanks, kid. You're the best," Grantaire complimented with a grin. 

"Shut up and just give the monster a taste of hell, yeah?" Gavroche finished his work and hopped down. 

Enjolras found himself still envying Gavroche's friendship with the co-pilot. He forced the thought away. Not this close to battle. 

He winced as a data cable was attached at the back of his neck. "Connectors attached," Bossuet announced.

"We are closing the cockpit. Support crew to now exit the cockpit and move away from the jaeger," Courfeyrac ordered through the PA system. 

People scrambled off as ramps and lifts backed away. 

All that was left was for Jehan to align the synchronization. 

Their mathematician faced his monitors and checked on two waves of color. Beside him, as a first run, Joly kept monitoring a panel that pictured each man's brain, lighting up in various colors in different areas. 

"Ready to connect to the Drift," Jehan announced. 

Enjolras grit his teeth and spoke for the two of them. He braced the handrails and planted his feet. "Ready to connect." He looked beside him. The co-pilot held onto the handrails with calm. Grantaire was trying to control his breaths. 

Jehan took a deep breath. "Connecting in five...four...three...two...one...ZERO...." 

Everything disappeared in a flash of light. 

He was pulled down, heavily, into deep caverns, deep into hidden memories.

...................................

Enjolras had expected to find a little boy Grantaire. That was how other jaeger pilots documented their first experience of the Drift: one of the pilots, the one with the darker demons and memories, reverted into a little boy or girl, then helped by the other less tortured pilot. 

But he looked down at little hands and little feet inside little shoes. All around him, little boys and girls were screaming and running in all directions. 

The heavy pounding of kaiju feet shook the ground beneath him, ruining the park and playground all around him. 

The park and playground were ordinary. It was not a park or playground he recalled from his memories, and that was strange. But all the screaming and running all around him still frightened him. 

He winced at being the weaker of the two pilots, the one who needed saving, as he covered his ears, shut his eyes, and curled into a ball of little boy. There would be no one to save him. Everyone would be running away, running away to save themselves. No one cared about anyone else. No one cared about him. He could not think of anything else. He was alone. No one cared. He was too weak to fight, too weak to be noticed, too weak to be remembered. 

The shockwaves from kaiju feet rocked the ground under his shoes. More screams pierced the air around him. He squeezed his eyes shut, even tighter. He pressed his hands over his ears even more. The ground shook again, as the feet pounded nearer.

He began to cry. 

But as he sniffled, he felt a warmth around him. 

A rather well-built, sinewed warmth wrapped itself over him and around him. 

"You okay?" the warmth asked...in a familiar voice. From the recent past, the immediate past.

He managed to nod as he cried.

"Let's get out of here," his rescuer said. 

He made a long and deep sniffle, then he nodded through the tears. 

Arms were wrapped around his body, as he was lifted away. 

He looked up at his rescuer. He gasped.

"Welcome to my nightmare, oh, light of the resistance," Grantaire greeted with a bitter chuckle. 

The young man ran through the streets, weaving through other people running from the monster, the little boy cradled in his arms.

"This is how it is most nights in my head," Grantaire said, running rapidly, his breaths coming in pants. He arms tightened around the little boy. "That thing decimated my town, destroyed our apartment. I was already this big. I was somewhere else, so I wasn't there. But I watched my apartment crumble. With everyone the mattered to me inside it. All I could do was run. I didn't know what to do. I didn't think there was anything I could save." 

The pounding of heavy kaiju feet boomed behind them. 

This part was more like Enjolras's own memories: being held like this by his father, as they scrambled away from kaiju, fast enough to be retrieved by military forces, brought away from the carnage. 

"It's why I wanted to be better, to be able to hold my own against anything," Grantaire continued. "But there are days and nights when I want it to stop bothering me. I've found that ethanol does the trick best."

"Stop," Enjolras said. 

It was spoken with so much authority, even in that little-boy voice, that Grantaire obeyed. 

Little Enjolras wriggled free. 

"I don't want to run anymore," he declared. 

The pounding and booming shockwaves shook the pavement beneath his little shoes. The screams and human footfall surrounded him. Yet he stomped his feet and raised his head to Grantaire. 

"I am NOT running away anymore. I am going to fight." 

The young man's jaw slackened. "But, but, that's a big kaiju." 

"I don't want to be scared anymore! I don't want to run anymore! I want to fight, and get rid of him! I want to fight!" 

Grantaire sighed as he lowered onto one knee, before the little boy. "I wish I had your guts." 

Little Enjolras scowled. "Don't you want to fight them, too?" 

"I do," Grantaire said, with a chuckle. "I'm just not as brave as you." 

"I don't need you to be brave, I just need you to fight with me!" the boy declared. 

Grantaire chuckled again. "There's that, yeah," he said quietly. He brought out a hand. "Okay, I'll fight with you."

The boy reached for the outstretched hand. 

Grantaire clasped his large hand and enveloped the small one. "Let's do this, my light," he said. 

"Let's." Enjolras placed a little hand over Grantaire's. 

..........................

A moment of darkness. 

Then clarity. Bright, powerful clarity. 

An awareness of himself. An awareness of him, the one beside him, inside him, and all around him. An awareness of two minds, but one. An awareness of a singular mind.

The Drift synchronized at 100%. 

Their minds worked as one.

.............................

The jaeger was lifted out of the hangar as they reoriented, as they familiarized themselves with the controls.

"Bring us near the kaiju," Enjolras ordered. "But keep us behind it." 

"Copy, Light," Courfeyrac acknowledged. "Corinthian says hi." 

"Hi, Feuilly!" Grantaire squeaked. 

"Will you be serious!" Enjolras snapped. 

"Haven't you heard of keeping things, well, light?" Grantaire answered with a chuckle. 

"And haven't YOU heard of being serious in battle?" 

Grantaire lost the cheerfulness. "I AM serious. I need the humor to keep calm. Don't you?" 

Enjolras harrumphed.

Grantaire spoke again. "Our thoughts keep clashing into each other, and we keep arguing, as I'm sure you've noticed." 

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "You want to suggest something." 

"Yes, light of the Paris resistance, sir. You like planning. I don't like planning. I'm the better fighter, but you're also a good fighter, so--" 

"Make your point!" he snapped again. 

"Well, sir," Grantaire said. "You do the thinking and planning, and I'll follow. You let ME plan out the punches and the kicks, and you follow. Okay?" 

"I didn't understand a word you said," he complained.

They landed onto the water, less than a hundred meters behind the kaiju. 

Such a large bulk of metal dropping into water was impossible to keep quiet and to keep from dropping with a heavy splash. The kaiju had to be aware of its arrival.

Grantaire sighed. "Oh, well, whatever. Let's just do the thing." 

"WHAT?!" Enjolras said. 

But the other suddenly brought a heavy, serious, battle aura to the sync. "It's coming."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long delay. I couldn't plan out what was supposed to happen.
> 
> Also, apparently there WILL be a PacRim 2. This thing has been stop-starting for so long, various things have changed about PacRim news and the world. (sigh)
> 
> There will probably be one or two more chapters after this one.

Combeferre, mercifully, handed out orders from the control tower, while Enjolras aligned whatever battle aura he had. 

"Corinthian: maintain position guarding the town. Your main objective is to protect the populace. Cannons on standby. Patria: engage kaiju at will. 'Ponine: surveillance and standby. But shoot down if you think it will help Patria."

Enjolras sighed happily. The Patria. He was in it. Properly, getting orders for it from inside it. He was in a position not to just give orders. He could do something.

"You have your orders, Patria. Engage at will," Combeferre repeated. 

"Yeah, we heard you the first time, Center!" Grantaire answered.

But Enjolras saw it for it was: Combeferre was helping to calm him down, while telling him he had full control of his tactical decisions on the field. That had not changed about their strategy. All this while giving the overall strategy. The Patria would head the charge, the others including the Corinthian would give defense support. 

"Copy, Center," he said. 

The kaiju roared, a sound that screeched at all the receivers, audible for several kilometers.

It faced the Patria.

"Light," Grantaire said. 

"What." Enjolras felt Grantaire's strange concoction of fear, anxiety, and determination. 

"I'll run the punches. Just follow me. Okay?" 

"I can't even match you, remember?" he said. 

"That's what the Drift is for, isn't it?" Grantaire said. "Do you trust me?" 

"I am NOT sentimental!" he protested. 

"It's a question." The kaiju roared again, stepping forward toward them, toward the base. "Do you trust me?" 

"I...don't...know what to tell you," he said. 

"Do you at least trust me to know how to fight?" Grantaire asked again. "Do you trust me?" 

He sighed. "Yes. Yes already!"

Grantaire's thoughts went to a full stop. "...Really?" 

"YES!" And it may be even be true. "Now can we go fight this thing?" 

He felt the fire blaze warmth everywhere about him again. 

"Let's go."

He felt some of himself transfer in the Drift to the co-pilot. He felt his arms and legs move. He felt his body and the Patria step forward. Of course he knew this feeling from the simulations. But now with the Drift filling him, they were movements that were part of him. Of him and Grantaire. Together. It was like a few hours ago, with hands wrapped around his, and heart finally one with his. Understanding and accepting. But this was more immediate, more focused, more real. 

His senses grew sharper for their surroundings. 

The kaiju was built more for strength, with a level balance for speed. It was not bottom-heavy; its weight was evenly distributed. It was not a slow, lumbering creature that needed consideration for toughness and bulk. It was not a light and fast creature, either, that needed speedy movements and rapid shots. The creature was covered in a leathery tough skin, but did not have many spikes and did not seem to have appendages that could throw darts or venom. 

"What do you suggest, then, Light?" Grantaire asked, in his head, mixed in the Drift. 

A head-on attack would probably do best with that kind of opponent. There was no need for long-range tactics and weapons for such a creature that was best engaged directly. As long as the hits landed well and in the right places, there was an excellent chance of success. 

"Gotcha, Light," Grantaire acknowledged. "Engaging!" 

The jaeger charged. 

Grantaire rapidly lowered pneumatics and hydraulics, toughening the legs and feet. 

Enjolras felt a solid united thought, and complied. Their arms and hands moved and grabbed the kaiju's upper limbs, locking it into a grapple. They planted the legs firmly on the sea bed, made tougher by the lowering of the weight center. 

They had engaged the kaiju, locked into place, as it squirmed and roared. 

"Okay, Light?" Grantaire said. "On two." 

"Whatever!" he said. 

"TWO!" 

They swung a right hook, straight into the creature's abdomen. 

Enjolras watched, somewhat stunned, as they felt the jaeger's fist hit leathery tough hide, as their punch connected with the creature's internal organs, feeling them squish and give with the attack. 

The punch had landed correctly. It had connected the right way, without delay and with perfect timing. 

The arrangement was working. 

The kaiju let out a piercing screech. Its head dived and bit into the jaeger's right shoulder. 

"Now!" Grantaire called out. 

They hit with a left jab. Then they delivered a rapid rain of blows to the abdomen. 

This was working. This was working. His punching speed matched Grantaire's per second. What he lacked in accuracy was compensated by Grantaire, what he had in speed and strength added to the overall power. He was not sure how it was working when he just moving in synch with Grantaire. But he was moving perfectly in synch with the co-pilot. He could not believe it. 

They grabbed the creature at the neck, wrenching it free of the shoulder. 

Grantaire manoeuvred the jaeger as they pulled back the right arm. He raised the pneumatics to the arms. 

Enjolras felt all the power move up to a powerful fist. 

With a twist and a bound, they drove the fist up onto the creature's head, connecting with the jaw and cracking bone. 

The kaiju teetered and swayed like a large tree, as the Patria stepped backward and away. 

Enjolras's brain calculated rapidly, as Grantaire's listened. The creature was already tottering. They were at the advantage, as the direct opponent, and in the general strategy. A few more moves, and the creature would fall. But their own weapons may not be enough to kill it. 

"Very good moves, Patria," Combeferre complimented over the communication system. "But we're not done yet." 

"We know," Enjolras acknowledged. 

As Grantaire led them to charge again. 

Grantaire wasted no time, gave the kaiju no opportunity to reorient or to move. 

The Patria ran forward, shoulder first. 

They rammed the kaiju, tackling it. 

With a strong and vice-like grip, they held the kaiju and pulled it down, into the sea. 

Enjolras shouted into the communicators: "Corinthian! Take it down!" 

"On it!" Bahorel acknowledged. 

They kept the creature tackled over the seafloor, as it writhed beneath the jaeger's weight. 

They felt the ground tremble as the Flash Corinthian ran up to them. 

They heard the kaiju let out a terrible scream, as the Corinthian pierced it through the chest with its long spear, and shot at its head. 

They kept the kaiju pinned down, until the screams faded, until the creature's body fluids spilled and scattered over the sea, until the creature grew limp. 

..............................

They all heard a cheerful beep. 

Coufeyrac's cheerful voice followed on the communicators. "Both Jehan and Joly are confirming no signs of life from the kaiju. I repeat: no signs of life remain noticeable from the kaiju. Monitors are also showing that everybody seems to be fine. You can all celebrate now!" 

The Patria had survived its first battle with a kaiju. It had survived. 

Somehow the most Drift-compatible but most contrary partners had managed to Drift. 

Courfeyrac chirped again, "Good work, everybody! Please activate your signals for retrieval. We'll be picking you up shortly." 

Enjolras finally let out a deep sigh of relief. "It's done," he said. 

"Looks like it," Grantaire quietly agreed. 

"We won." 

"We won?" 

"We won." 

"We did?" 

"Yes, we did," Enjolras confirmed, as he raised the signal for retrieval. 

"Enjolras?" 

"What." 

"We make a great team, right?" 

"I...guess." 

Actually, he knew it now to be true.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the final chapter for this story. I apologize if that's too sudden, after several weeks from the last chapter. 
> 
> Thank you to everybody who read this thing, both in its ups and downs. Thank you to those who tracked it for the several months, including the long intervals between chapters. 
> 
> Thanks again to K for various things. 
> 
> Um, yeah. Again, thank you.

The battle had happened in broad daylight, with many media outlets watching. Thus, everyone remained busy even after the victory. The engineers and machinists took stock of the damage to the jaegers and the facility, fixing already what could be repaired. The gunners and cannoneers, grateful not to have had much work to do this battle, checked the weapons and the entire base for structural integrity and damage. A small group helped Jehan mop up the remains of the kaiju, collecting them into the base for research, as well as for environmental protection. Joly walked everywhere, inquiring into everyone, and cleaning the few scrapes. 

The media kept the triumvirate busy. Courfeyrac accepted the arriving requests for interviews, Combeferre refereed the order the requests will be taken, and Enjolras took in the reporter's questions. 

"We'd like to congratulate you on the saving the town!" the reporter usually said first. 

"Thank you," Enjolras always answered, confident in his gratefulness, without being haughty. He could not be. 

"A simple but brilliantly executed strategy!" 

"All credit for that goes to our head strategist," he replied, with a nod and a grin toward Combeferre. "The coordination of all elements was essential to the success of this plan." He then smiled at Courfeyrac. 

"We had a clear glimpse of the new jaeger!" 

"Yes, it has been christened the Patria," he gladly informed the reporter, probably for the fifth time already in so many minutes to several sets of media crews. 

"It seems quite large for a one-man jaeger..." 

"It is NOT a one-man jaeger, it is a two-pilot machine." 

"Oh! Reports have been circulating that you have recruited a co-pilot..." 

"The report is correct." Enjolras smiled in gratitude, even as he sighed. 

"Is there a chance we will meet this worthy fighter?" 

Enjolras could only chuckle his helplessness. "Maybe another time. The co-pilot has been left...indisposed, and needs to rest." 

The reporter generally gave his thanks for the responses, and Enjolras gave a few parting messages for the public. 

As the signal of that interview cut, he turned to Courfeyrac, and scanned the monitors. 

"Really, light?" Courfeyrac laughed heartily. "Do I have to tell you again that R's just in medical bay, sleeping it off? He'll be fine, okay?"

He gave a slight smile. "Yes, tell me again." 

"Well, you asked for it," Courfeyrac said. "Grantaire. Will. Be. Fine. Okay? You did give him a roller coaster of emotions, you know." 

Enjolras sighed as he nodded.

......................

They held the victory party in the mess hall. Whatever extra funds were available went to many boxes of pizza, a good number of chicken buckets, everyone's favorite food, and lots and lots of beer. 

On one of the hall, near the serving area, Grantaire was surrounded by well-wishers and friends, patting him on the back, shaking his hand, asking about how it was to be in the Drift for the first time. They sat around him at the table, laughing in many places. 

At the far end of the hall, near the door, people surrounded Enjolras as well, congratulating him on the victory, also inquiring about how it was in the Drift. 

But Enjolras kept glancing into the distance toward the table near the serving area, peering as Grantaire disappeared behind several backs, stealing stares as people moved away and Grantaire appeared again. Only one can of cold beer stayed in Grantaire's hand. He held the same one for most of the night. Enjolras was sure of this, for he never saw the co-pilot lower that one can onto the table, to replace it with another. Grantaire chatted and laughed and mingled, holding the can and never changing it. 

Enjolras raised an eyebrow, several times, wondering. 

"You okay?" Courfeyrac inquired, shouting over their DJ's house music. 

Enjolras smirked, as he found Combeferre beside him, and his hands inside the center's own. 

"I can tell him to come over?" Courfeyrac asked. 

Enjolras shook his head as he chuckled. "Go on, you two. Do your thing. Don't worry about me." 

Coufeyrac gave him a sound pat. "Suit yourself! Goodnight!" 

Enjolras waved them away with a smile, as they moved out of the mess hall, hand in hand, fingers tangled together. 

The two C's. The most Drift-compatible twosome who could not operate a jaeger. It was enough for them to be together in the control room every day. It was enough for them, once in a while, to move away from the noise, sit side by side while gazing at the stars from the viewdeck. Between them, they would accurately name all the available constellations in the night sky. Somewhere during that time, they will likely be kissing. And it would all be alright in the world, with the two C's. 

Meanwhile, the night wore on, and the party music slowed. The people moved in groups of two and threes, out of the mess hall, into sleeping quarters or onto the viewdeck. Several slunk onto tables, while others lay on the floor in happily drunken slumber. 

None of them was Grantaire. The co-pilot sat at the corner, watching the descending after-party quiet, with a silly grin on his face. 

With no one left to entertain or chat with, Enjolras approached. 

He stood before him. He tossed his head. "Are you right in the head?"

"Never," Grantaire answered with a smirk. 

"You. Are not drunk. Everyone else is already boozy. Something's wrong," he said. Even he had had more than one can of beer already that evening. 

Grantaire smiled. "I'm okay." 

"Then...why..." 

"I want to remember this one. This party. Being with everybody." Grantaire looked up. "Being with you. That's all." 

"Being with me, huh?" 

He sat down beside him, feeling the dizziness from the alcohol in his system, one that was unused to alcohol. 

"No, really," he mused aloud. "WHY would anyone even want to be WITH me?" he asked no one in particular, not even Grantaire, as his head settled onto the co-pilot's shoulder. 

"Because you're smart, you're organized, you're awesome, and you're cute?" the co-pilot replied. 

"I'm none of those things," he retorted dizzily. 

"Yes, you are, and you know it," Grantaire answered with a chuckle. 

His head sank onto the co-pilot's shoulder. "Grantaire, may it please the light of the Paris resistance." 

"Yes, sir?" 

"Welcome to the group." 

..........................

The news-covered victory also brought more attention to the anti-kaiju resistance. Young men and women, and a few older people, came to their gates, asking to be recruited. This kept the core members busy over the following days, interviewing candidates, selecting from rosters, deciding who among the volunteers get to stay on the base, and who have to help them from the outside.

The door opened, and let in Combeferre, then Grantaire carrying his gym bag of belongings. Grantaire kept his head bowed as he lowered the bag onto the floor. 

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "What is the meaning of this?" 

Combeferre coughed onto a fist. "Since we're getting some new recruits this week, we need to free up some bunks and rooms. So, as your co-pilot, we're letting Grantaire bunk with you." 

Enjolras folded his hands over his chest. "Why was I not told?" 

"Sorry, old friend, it was probably mixed up in all the other things we were thinking about." 

Enjolras snorted. He knew the two C's well enough and long enough. They knew that something he disagreed with was better not given to him as a choice. To be fair, he was indeed aware that the base was filled to basic capacity, and they had to accommodate the new people. "What about the engineer?" 

"Gavroche sleeps in the hangar, and generally the hangar's no good place to sleep..." 

"Can you stop going in circles and give me the real reason why you're here?" 

Combeferre grinned as he lifted his glasses. "Besides the bunking issue, Jehan and Joly both think that bunking together may help you two synchronise better as co-pilots. I agree with their suggestion."

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "I already use the bottom bunk. If he uses the top bunk, he'll fall." 

Combeferre kept grinning while Grantaire answered, "I'll be fine with top bunk." 

Enjolras faced Combeferre. "But, what about when he..." 

"I'll sleep on the floor," Grantaire said. 

"You can't always sleep on the floor!" 

"I'll manage. Just keep a rug on the floor." 

"You'll drool on the rug!" 

"I promise I won't?" 

"I'll likely step on you while going to the shower!" 

"Just kick me out of the way..." 

"And why am I going to do that!" 

And so on it went, while Combeferre exited the sleeping quarters, wearing a wide grin.


End file.
